


The Healthful Benefits of Cactus

by buffyaddict13



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, Inspired by a Movie, POV Pepper Potts, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Pepper Potts, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6796096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffyaddict13/pseuds/buffyaddict13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The logical part of her brain knows Steve is only partially at fault. There are issues she does not understand, or is not privy to.  Issues involving the Sokovia Accords, Bucky Barnes, and the murder (<i>murder!</i>) of Tony’s parents.  But the logical part of her brain is currently out to lunch and she is </i>pissed<i>. Not just at Steve. At all the Avengers. At herself.  For the first time in months, the only person she isn't angry with is Tony.  </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Healthful Benefits of Cactus

**Author's Note:**

> This fic addresses the following issues: lack of JARVIS, parental death, sad!tony, bamf!pepper, and the merits of metamucil.
> 
> i wrote this in one day and it wasn't beta'ed. I hope i doesn't make your eyes bleed.
> 
> sorta kinda barely sequel to my fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/787096 
> 
> WARNING: IF YOU A BIG FAN OF STEVE ROGERS AND 100% TEAM CAP PLZ DO NOT READ THIS AND SEND ME CRABBY MESSAGES. THANK YOU.

Four broken ribs, pulmonary contusions, concussion, broken nose, fractured eye socket, torn biceps tendon, broken ankle, both wrists sprained.

Four broken ribs, pulmonary contusions, concussion, broken nose, fractured eye socket, torn biceps tendon, broken ankle, both wrists sprained, and a partridge in an effing pear tree.

Pepper recites the litany in her head as she marches down the hallway. Her heels click past faceless men and women in pale scrubs, through the smells of sickness, blood, and industrial cleanser.

Maria Hill is trying to talk to her. Pepper's cell bleeps with another unread message from Friday. Maria moves in front of her, touches Pepper’s shoulder.

“He’ll be okay,” Maria says softly. “You heard the doctor.”

Yes. Pepper heard the doctor. _Four broken ribs, pulmonary contusions, broken nose, fractured eye socket, torn biceps tendon, broken ankle, both wrists sprained._

But _okay_ and _Tony Stark_ have never been on the best of terms. Especially not now. Not after this. Maria means well, but Pepper’s not interested in empty platitudes. She feels incandescent with rage. Extremis is long gone, but she imagines herself glowing with anger. If she still had the ability she would gladly punch Steve Rogers into next week. Next _year_.

The logical part of her brain knows Steve is only partially at fault. There are issues she does not understand, or is not privy to. Issues involving the Sokovia Accords, Bucky Barnes, and the murder ( _murder!_ ) of Tony’s parents. But the logical part of her brain is currently out to lunch and she is _pissed_. Not just at Steve. At all the Avengers. At herself. For the first time in months, the only person she isn't angry with is Tony. 

Pepper closes her eyes, inhales. Exhales. Opens them. She stares at Maria. She doesn’t have the energy to smile, to make Maria feel better. She doesn’t even have the energy to make herself feel better. She is saving all of her energy for Tony.

Maria’s phone buzzes. She steps back, apologetic. “I’m sorry Pepper, I have to take this. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Pepper nods once and continues toward Tony’s room. Vision stands outside the door, leaning against a wall the color of bone.

She swallows. Pepper has tried to accept Vision. She has _tried_. But when she hears his voice, she only hears JARVIS. It’s one of the (many) reasons she and Tony are on their break. It’s not fair to Tony, but she can’t help it. Tony has been unfailingly kind and helpful and polite to Vision, but she can see the pain in his eyes every time the AI’s voice comes out of Vision’s mouth. Friday is fine, Friday is great, but she’s not JARVIS. And neither is Vision. He frightens her. He sounds like JARVIS, but he’s so much more. More what, exactly? Unknowable. Alien. Terrifying. One of those. Or all of them.

Vision nods at her, his manners impeccable. Just like his wardrobe. He’s dressed like a gent straight out of a 1940s British catalog. Tony told her once Vision dresses like his beloved childhood butler, Edwin Jarvis. Pepper bites down on a peal of hysterical laughter. Good ol’ Vision. He’s Jarvis squared.

“Miss Potts.” Vision greets her quietly.

Pepper forces herself to meet Vision’s calm gaze and listens to not-JARVIS speak.

“Mr. Stark is currently under sedation.”

Okay. That’s good. He needs to sleep. For a year. Maybe two. The anger is still there. It’s in the white-knuckle grip on her purse, the sweat down her back, under her arms. The ache in her jaw. 

“Any news on Rhodey?”

“He’s doing well enough to ask about Tony.”

She nods stiffly. “Is T’Challa still here?” She wants to thank him for flying Tony back. At least someone did. Fresh anger churns her stomach. Tony’s arc reactor had been smashed. _Four broken ribs, pulmonary contusions._ Was Steve trying to kill him? A few short years ago Tony would be dead if the arc reactor had been destroyed. There’s a buzzing in her years, the lights grow dim. What if Tony had died. What if he had died thinking she didn’t love him? That wasn’t even remotely the problem. She loved him _too much._ How could she be with him when she was terrified every time he put on a suit? Every time he spent more than an hour in the lab? God only knew which of his creations would try to destroy him (or the world) next.

Pepper blinks rapidly, pinches the bridge of her nose. She will not pass out. She will not cry in this hallway filled with strangers. Not when Tony needs her. She is stronger than that, dammit.

The din in her head recedes, the hallway brightens.

Vision’s hand is on her arm. Firm and comforting. “The King of Wakanda has left. He only stayed long enough to confirm Mr. Stark would recover.”

Pepper frowns. Should she send a thank you note? A flower basket? _Thank you for not leaving my boyfriend to die in Siberia. Sincerely, Pepper Potts._ She claps a hand to her mouth to keep from breaking into hysterical laughter.

Vision leans closer. His voice is as firm as his hand. ”I may not be JARVIS, Miss Potts, but I still care about Mr. Stark.”

The words calm her. She swallows the laughter back down. Pepper searches Vision’s expression, his strange scarlet face. He looks...upset. Worried.

She pats his hand. “Thank you,” she says. “I appreciate that.” It’s the first honest thing she’s said to him. It won't be the last.

\--

She’s prepared herself. She knows what to expect after talking to Friday, to the doctor, to Maria. Four broken ribs, pulmonary contusions, concussion, broken nose, fractured eye socket, torn biceps tendon, broken ankle, both wrists sprained. 

Tony’s been hurt worse. At least his heart wasn’t physically damaged again. But emotionally? He’s shattered. He was already having a hard time without her, she can’t imagine how badly he’s hurting now. And this is a kind of pain morphine can’t touch.

She’s prepared herself.

But not enough.

Lying still and silent in the hospital bed, Tony looks...diminished. Reduced. Fragile. The words are foreign in her mind. They are not words she associates with Tony, but they’re the only ones that fit.

His face is chalk. The bruises stand out like ink. An icepack covers his right eye. His nose is bandaged. The skin around his left eye looks purple and raw. There are stitches along his hairline, above his left eyebrow. His lip is swollen and split. She can still see a faint smear of blood in the stubble of his chin.

She sinks into a chair and stares at him, sick. She hasn’t been this scared since the Chitauri. And she hadn’t even known about the nuke until after the fact. How many times has she sat in a chair like this for Tony? Too many times.

“Do you need anything?” Vision is standing partially inside the room. His other half is...in the wall. She’s seen him phase through things before, and it’s always shocking.

Not this time. She’s too numb to feel much of anything.

Tony shifts on the bed. “Hey JARVIS, could I--” he coughs, his voice sandpaper. “‘Could I get some water?”

Vision walks to the pitcher and pours a small glass, inserts a paper straw. “Here you go, sir.”

Tony reaches for it, upper arm wrapped, wrist splinted, fingers trembling. “Thanks buddy.” The words are thick and sluggish. She’s certain Tony has no idea JARVIS isn’t magically standing here.

“And you Miss Potts? Can I bring you some coffee? It seems to be the drink of choice in hospitals.”

Pepper nods gratefully and takes the plastic cup of water from him. “Thank you, Vision,” She pronounces his name carefully, respectfully. With reverence. Because he let Tony believe he was JARVIS. And that is no small kindness. “And please, call me Pepper.”

Vision's lips curve into a small smile. His eyes crinkle with warmth. Despite the color of his skin, he looks human. He looks as if some invisible weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “I will be back shortly, Pepper.”

Pepper sits on the edge of Tony’s bed, careful to avoid the various wires and tubes. She guides the straw to Tony’s mouth and he sips, dribbling water down the front of his gown. Pepper wipes it off with a corner of the sheet.

“Hey, Pep,” he says, forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What’re you doin’ here?” His words are slurred. One dark eye peers up at her. It looks too big for his face. His hair sticks up in all directions.

He stares at her, and then his chest hitches and he puts a hand to his ribs, moaning in pain. He falls back against the pillows. One hand scrabbles at the blanket covering his legs, twisting the fabric. The other covers his face and he turns to the wall.

Pepper deposits the glass back on the bed stand. She kicks off her shoes in one smooth motion and pulls herself up onto the bed. She lays beside him, wraps one arm gently around his waist. Tony’s shoulders shake as he cries into the palm of his hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Barnes,” he chokes. “Bucky Barnes killed my mom and I saw him,” he sobs. “I saw him do it. He killed her and I was drunk at school and I didn’t know and I didn’t do anything. All this time they were murdered and I didn’t know. How stupid am I, Pepper? Oh my God, I didn’t know and Steve _did_. Why didn’t he tell me? He killed my _mom._ ”

Pepper kisses the side of his face gently and then presses her cheek to the top of his head. Her skin rests against the curls of his disheveled, oily hair.

Tony’s words are garbled, filled with sedatives and tears and pain, but she can make them out all the same. “I thought he was gonna kill me.”

Pepper shakes her head. “No, baby. He wouldn’t.” She might be furious with Steve and this Bucky Barnes asshole, but she won’t--can’t--believe he’d actually try to kill Tony. Never.

“And part of me was sad cuz you wouldn’t know I still love you, although you probably know--”

“I have a pretty good idea,” Pepper says into his hair.

“And part of me was glad--cuz then--then--I could be with her again.”

And now the words dissolve into racking sobs and Pepper holds him, and her tears mix with his. Her chest aches. Her throat hurts. But she knows her pain is nothing like his. 

Virginia Pepper Potts considers herself a kind person. A patient person. She has spent years soothing over Tony’s gaffs, cleaning his messes, taking out the garbage, figuratively and literally. She’s good at reading people and runs one of the biggest Fortune 500 companies in the world. She does not, as a rule, dislike people. She does not hate them. But she hates Howard Stark for bullying his own son. For making him feel unloved and alone. She hates Obadiah Stane for having Tony kidnapped and tortured. She hates him for trying to kill Tony multiple times and for putting her own life in danger. 

She hates Aldrich Killian for shooting Tony into the ocean, for forcing him to go on the run, for experimenting on her. And she hates Steve Rogers for betraying Tony, for breaking his heart, his spirit, and body. Steve is supposed to Tony’s friend. He’s Captain America. How is beating the shit out of the man she loves an act of heroism? Of freedom?

It’s not.

She understands Steve was protecting Barnes. Tony must have been insane with hurt and rage. But wasn’t Tony Steve’s friend? Maybe Steve will reach out Tony someday and apologize. Maybe their relationship can be repaired. Maybe the Avengers will rebuild. Maybe Tony will forgive Steve because he’s spent his whole life looking up to Cap. But Pepper hasn’t. Her forgiveness will not come easily. 

Tony cries for what feels like days, like weeks, but can’t be more than a few minutes. Finally, he stops shaking. Pepper rubs his back through the thin hospital gown. She used to do the same thing after the nightmares and PTSD episodes. It had been getting better, but God only knows what will happen now. She can see a terrible red wheal on the back of his neck, and a sickly rainbow of bruising beneath the gown’s flimsy ties.

“Pepper,” he says, and his voice is dull. 

“Yes, Tony?”

“I think...I think I’m broken.” His voice goes up at the end, as if he’s asking a question.

She holds him tighter, trying to hold him together, to will the hurt away. 

“Your ribs will heal,” she promises, even though they both know that’s not what he means.

\---

The next day there is less crying and even less Vision. The nursing staff finds him varying degrees of distracting (at best) and frightening (at worst). Happy calls and rambles on Pepper’s speaker phone for a bit, but Tony doesn't say much. Happy wants to talk about the series finale of Downton Abbey but Tony is uncommunicative and the call peters out. 

Maria Hill stops in to visit. She brings a cactus. 

“It’s a prickly bastard for a prickly bastard,” she says with a wink and leaves it on the table next to a stuffed bear and a hand drawn card. The card features a capable pencil sketch of Iron Man holding a large bottle of Metamucil. 

The corner of Tony’s mouth does something that resembles a smile, so Pepper considers Maria’s visit a success.

There is a noticeable lack of well wishes from Secretary Ross and his ilk. What an insufferable prick. She wishes Phil Coulson could have a chat or two with Ross. God, she misses that man. 

“I miss Phil,” she says suddenly, breaking Tony’s silence. “We never talk about him, but I still miss him. I wish he and Fury were still around to deal with Ross.”

Tony lifts his head. He looks a little more like himself today. As if he’s taking up more space in the bed. But he’s too quiet. It worries her. A quiet Tony is a sad Tony. 

“I miss Phil too,” Tony says. “He deserved so much better." He plucks idly at the edge of a blanket. "So did JARVIS.”

“I know. But I’m finally getting used to Vision. He’s been trying really hard, Tony. He’s been really helpful the last few days.”

Tony sighs. “I get that. He’s a good guy. It’s just I thought Vision would be more...JARVIS-y. I thought he’d be a human JARVIS. Not this new guy who just sounds like him.” He rubs a hand over his stubble and there’s a scratching noise. “I guess I was just selfish.”

“You’re not selfish.”

Tony laughs, but it’s a bitter sound. “Tell that to what’s left of the Avengers.”

“Listen, Tony. If they think you’re selfish then they never really knew you. And they don’t deserve to know you. They’re the ones who are selfish.” She can feel her fists clench. “All the things you’ve done for them over the years. Clint’s arrows and Steve’s shield and their apartments and Falcon’s metal bird thingy and they have the nerve to think you’re selfish? That’s--that’s--I’m sorry Tony, but that’s bullshit!”

Tony laughs again and the bitterness is gone. “Whoa, language.” The laughter leaks out of his voice and his expression is strained, as if he's in pain. He sighs heavily. “Okay, okay, I’m awesome and they’re ingrates, is that better?”

Pepper unclenches her hands, rubs them along the thighs of her jeans. “Much.”

“Sheesh,” Tony mutters, “I thought you were gonna rage quit on me.”

\---

“Don’t you have a company to run?” Tony demands from behind the magazine he’s pretending to read.

Pepper shrugs. “I have minions.”

Tony peers over the top of the page. “Those little yellow guys?”

Pepper lifts an eyebrow, nods. “So you’ve met them.”

They talk like that for most of the day. Just back and forth nonsense and small talk, nothing too deep. Tony suggests she go to a motel to get some sleep, but Pepper’s quick to put a stop to that kind of nonsense.

Tony snorts and flicks at a magazine at the edge of the bed. It slides slowly off the bed and onto the floor.

They both stare at it.

“Feel better?”

Tony shrugs. “It’s the first real feeling of accomplishment I’ve had in days.” He nods toward the stuffed bear. “Who’s that from?”

“Harley.”

Tony folds his hands behind his head and stares up at the ceiling. “Nice kid. He’s gonna be a better mechanic than I am, in about another minute. And the card by Picasso?”

“It's from somebody named Peter Parker. Apparently he thinks Metamucil will fix you right up,” Pepper says wryly. “And why would Peter Parker think more fiber will heal your ribs?”

“Because Peter is about 12 and thinks I’m 70, which is how I feel right about now, so he’s not wrong.” Tony smiles faintly. “He’s a smart kid. Brilliant. And I asked him to help me out. And he did.” The smile slips off. “But I shouldn’t have asked him in the first place, so.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” She's pretty sure she knows the answer.

Tony strokes his chin in an exaggerated gesture of thought. “Mmm, I’m gonna have to say no.”

Pepper sighs, exasperated. “Because you just want to feel guilty in silence?” 

“That _does_ sound more my style.”

Pepper fiddles with the delicate shrapnel chain around her neck. “You’re not broken you know,” she tells him.

“Tell that to my ribs. And my pride.”

So. It’s going to be like that, then. Tony’s mask is firmly buckled back into place.

“You know what I mean, Tony. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. I _hate_ that. And it wouldn’t hurt you to see a therapist.”

“I tried that,” Tony says petulantly, “and the guy fell asleep on me. Although I could give Dr. Yeti another chance.”

“That’s because ‘the guy’ was Bruce Banner and you know darn well he’s not a therapist. And neither is that stuffed monstrosity he bought you.”

“What about the stuffed monstrosity I bought _you_?”

“Dammit Tony, I’m being serious!” She glares.

Tony glares back, and then his face seems to collapse. There’s a long silence before Tony mutters, without looking at her: “I don’t need therapy.”

Pepper paces back and forth, hands on hips. This man is ludicrous. “Oh, that’s right, because spending hundreds of millions of dollars on ‘puke’ or whatever you call it is a great alternative to dealing with your feelings.”

“It’s called BARF,” Tony says wearily. “And I know that already. I just...I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Or feel.” He rolls his head toward Pepper, his expression bleak. “Except like a fool. Even now I’m more mad at Steve than Barnes. And Barnes is the one that killed them.”

She stops, her back to him. “That’s because you’re a good person.”

“Guess I’ve got you fooled.”

She turns and frowns at him. “What you meant to say, is ‘thank you for that compliment, Pepper. You are wise and good.”

Tony rolls his eyes but obeys. He recites in a school boy sing-song: “Thank you for that compliment Pepper you are wise and good.”

Pepper lifts a shoulder. “Needs work.”

Tony raises the bed, adjusts his pillows. "This thing is a piece of crap. Adjustable, my ass." He inspects the left splint on his wrist, sniffs it, makes a face. “Thank you, though. For real," he says, smiling. "For being here.” The smile dims and his voice waivers. “I didn’t know if...I mean I wasn’t sure when--”

Now Pepper rolls her eyes. “Shut up. Just because we’re not sleeping under the same roof doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

“I know," Tony admits. "But God, Pep. Sometimes it just feels like everyone leaves. Like they can’t get away fast enough. My dad was gone long before he died. We were worlds apart and I don’t even know what I did wrong.”

“Nothing,” Pepper says clearly. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Well I must have done something wrong,” Tony says, voice rising, “because Obadiah tried to kill me.” He rubs his good eye. “Jesus, what if he’s the one who hired the Winter Soldier to kill mom and dad?”

“Tony, I don’t think--”

“And Happy is gone although I don’t blame him. Not when working for me gets him nearly killed. But JARVIS is gone and Natasha, and Clint hates me, and Wanda will never trust me, and now Steve.

“Steve picked the guy who killed my parents over me.” Tony’s voice cracks. “And I get it, because he’s Bucky goddamn Barnes. He’s one of the Howling Commandos, and dad never shut up about them either. Everybody knows Steve and Bucky are BFFs forever, but I don’t--I don’t know how to get past this.”

Tony lowers his hands to his lap and studies them intently. “And Pep. I just want to say again, how sorry I am about...everything. About us. I know I spend too much tinkering and I know I promised it would be different, but I don’t know _how_ to be different. I think if I--if I could just make a better arrow, a better suit, if I could _be_ better, people wouldn’t leave.”

He looks at her, haggard. “I could have helped Bruce. I really think I could have helped him but he just left I didn’t get to say goodbye. I don’t know where he is. And I know it’s not my fault, but I miss him. He was my friend.” His voice is so low Pepper has to lean in to hear. “I miss so many people, Pep. I don’t know how to stop.”

“You don’t have to stop,” Pepper says gently. Tony hasn't talked this much in, well, ages. Possibly, ever. He's suffering, and the situation is horrible, but she can't help feeling a little bit giddy about getting him to open up. He can't keep everything bottled up all the time.

“Feelings are stupid.” Tony declares loudly, looking miserable. “But the thing I _really_ can’t stop is being sorry I couldn’t save you.” He wraps his arms around himself, bowing his head. “I’m so sorry, Pepper. I’m so sorry I let you down. And Peter! I can’t believe I put that kid in danger.” He runs a hand through his hair, yanks at it. “God Pepper, what the hell was I thinking? Not to mention how badly I let Rhodey down.” He laughs and it’s a dark, ugly sound. “Literally! If I had just caught--”

“Tony, we’ve talked about this. Endlessly. Ad nauseum. It’s not your job to save me. We both know I’m a self-rescuing princess. It’s your job to _keep up_ with me, not save me.”

Tony snorts. “Is that how it is?”

Pepper nods. “That’s how it is. And Rhodey is a big boy. He’s not stupid. He knows what he signed up for.”

“I don’t know, Pepper. Did he?” Tony’s eyes rubs at his good eye with the heel of his palm and sniffs. 

“Then you can ask him, okay? He’ll tell you the truth. But I know Rhodey doesn’t blame you. So you shouldn’t either.”

Tony doesn't answer, but eventually gives her a reluctant nod. 

“So...uh, are we still on a break?”

Pepper pulls her legs up under her, shifts into a more comfortable position in the chair. “Yup. You’re Rachel and I’m Ross.”

Tony perks up slightly. “Because I’m so pretty?”

Pepper grins. “Nope. Because I love an old fossil.”

Tony gapes at her. Then a snorts out a burst of laughter. He presses a hand to his heart. “That hurt. I am wounded. Again. You have injured me deeply, Miss Potts, even more than Rogers did. Ow. My heart.” He lifts his head and calls toward the hallway. “Nurse! Nurse? I need a band aid for my heart! Make it a big one!”

“I’m hoping for Hello Kitty,” Pepper says, crossing her fingers.

\---

Pepper has handled three low-grade emergencies and one code red over the past 36 hours. She’s still at the hospital, but she’ll be heading back to SI soon. Tony’s getting released in the morning.

A private jet will take him back to New York where Vision is waiting. Rhodey’s getting out of the hospital in another two weeks and Tony is already jotting down a myriad of physical therapy ideas. If anybody can get Rhodey walking again, it’ll be Tony.

Pepper’s on the bed beside him. There are fewer wires now and they're both under a worn quilt, tapping on their respective digital devices. There’s an old Cary Grant movie on television. The one with the tiger and Katherine Hepburn. Tony loves those old movies, although Pepper and Rhodey have been sworn to secrecy. Pepper’s sat through _Arsenic and Old Lace_ with Tony more times than she can count. It’s a good movie, but it’s not _that_ good. It’s not exactly a revelation Tony’s new AI is called Friday. 

Pepper’s scrolling through her e-mail when Tony says softly, “My mom loved Cary Grant.”

She looks up at Tony, tries to gauge his expression. He looks sad. Maybe wistful. “We used to watch _North by Northwest_ every year.”

“She’d be so proud of you,” Pepper tell him. She knows this is the truth. “The September Foundation is going to help so many people. She would be honored you named it after her favorite song.”

Tony’s adam’s apple bobs. “Maybe. I hope so. She used to sing that song all the time. She’d sit at the piano and serenade me and Jarvis and and all those empty rooms. It used to drive me nuts.” He reaches for Pepper’s hand and she twines her finger through his. “I’d give anything to hear her sing it again.” His voice waivers. “ _Anything_.”

“I know,” She squeezes his hand. “And so does she.”

\---

“How long is this break gonna last?” Tony asks when she emerges from the bathroom. She’s wearing a fresh t-shirt, jeans, and running shoes.

The worst of Tony’s bruises have faded to purple and green. The ice pack is gone and he can see out of his right eye without suffering from double vision. He hasn’t cried in over twenty-four hours, and after everything he's been through, Pepper considers that a pretty big win.

Pepper contemplates. “How long are you going to do stupid, reckless things?”

Tony bites at his lower lip a moment before answering. “What answer would you find the most believable?”

Pepper can’t help laughing. “You’re such a jerk.”

Tony nods and gives her an _aw shucks_ smile. “I know. But I’m a jerk who loves you.”

“Think of it this way. _Friends_ was on for, what? Ten years? Ross and Rachel spent a lot of that time apart, but they were always friends. They were each other’s family.” She waggles her eyebrows meaningfully. They've always been each other's family. “And in the end, they got together.”

“In the end they got together,” Tony echoes, eyes wide. He looks like he's about to float out of the bed.

“They did.” Pepper tilts her head, squints at him. “Do you feel better? You look like you’re feeling better.”

“I do,” Tony says. "I look like my best--and only--gal has spent the past few days gluing me back together again." His face is open and honest. There is no subterfuge. His hair is ridiculous and he looks awful and perfect and beautiful all at the same time. He is the man she loves and adores and dislikes intensely and is constantly annoyed by. She moves to his side and kisses his forehead with a loud smooching sound.

He makes a face, swats her away. "Eww, cooties."

“I’m glad you're feeling better, Tony. You really had me worried.”

“Sorry, Ross.”

“I forgive you Rachel,” she says, feeling magnanimous. “Your hair is awesome by the way.”

“I know right?" Tony pats the matted mess on the side of his head and makes a pouty face. "All the girls are totally gonna copy my style.”

Pepper chuckles. She tosses her cell into her purse, and the purse into the Prada Duffle. 

“I’ll talk to you soon, okay? I’m not going to the moon, I’m just a few hours away. Send me an e-mail. Call me. Talk to me. We can talk without yelling, see? We just spent three days talking with very little yelling.”

"In all fairness I was basically tied to a bed and couldn't escape."

She'll have to remember that for the future. 

“And there was a little too much crying for my taste. You could have done the back float out of here."

Now it's Pepper's turn to gape.

His expression is smug, the bastard. (He's her prickly bastard, thank God.) He’s not broken. He’s _not_. 

She gives him a stern look and points an accusing finger. “There’s going to be a lot more crying if I get another call from Friday telling me your vitals are offline and you’re probably dead in Siberia. That one’s a real mood killer.”

Tony pats her hand. “Poor Pep. Sounds like a real bummer for you.”

She bobs her head in agreement. “It really was! So try to go a few months without giving me a heart attack, okay?” 

Tony taps his temple. “I’ll make a note.”

Her smile softens and she grows serious. “And don’t give yourself one either. You got rid of the shrapnel but your heart's too big for your own good. I know you like to pretend you’re a tough manly-man, we with both know you’re a giant softy.”

Tony opens his mouth to protest and Pepper presses a finger against his lips. “Shhh. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. Your secret’s safe with me.” The people who matter, Rhodey and Bruce, Natasha, they already know he’s a keeper. Even if they aren’t around to tell him.

Tony rolls his eyes and shrugs. There’s no point in protesting. They smile at each other. It's pretty gooey. Pepper's stomach churns with a whole new feeling. Welp, this is her cue to leave.

Pepper slings the duffle over her shoulder. “Later, Stark. Stay out of trouble.”

“You too, Potts.”

She turns and walks down the hallway. One of Tony’s nurses sees her, smiles. Pepper smiles back. 

In the lobby, Pepper spots a dark head bent over a Starkpad, Bluetooth in her ear. Maria Hill glances up and shoots Pepper a grin.

Pepper is stunned. “Maria? What are you still doing here?”

“Hey Pepper. A friend at the ATCU asked me to hang around until Tony gets released. Just in case Ross feels like getting up to something naughty.”

“Doesn’t the ATCU deal with alien threats?”

“Yeah, but think about it. Does the Secretary of State act more like a dignified human being...or some kind of horrible homunculus of a space dick from the bowels of some shitty backwoods planet?”

“Space dick,” Pepper says promptly.

“Exactly.”

“Thank you Maria. If Tony knew he’d thank you too.”

“I know. And Pepper?”

“Yeah?”

“I told you Tony would be okay.” Maria taps her chin. “It’s probably that cactus I gave him. Plants provide all kinds of healthy benefits, you know.”

Smiling, Pepper doesn’t disagree. She turns toward the lobby doors. 

Four broken ribs, pulmonary contusions, concussion, broken nose, fractured eye socket, torn biceps tendon, broken ankle, both wrists sprained.

Tony Stark isn’t a super soldier. He’s not as strong as Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes, and he never will be. 

His wounds, both physical and emotional, will take much longer to heal than theirs.

But they _will_ heal.

\---

 

thanks for reading!


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